Dwain Northey (Gen X)

It seems we must once again return to Geography 101, a class the nation apparently skipped while memorizing bumper stickers. “America,” despite what Donnie the Would-Be King bellows into microphones, is not a magical synonym for “wherever the United States happens to be stomping today.” America is a hemisphere. Two of them, in fact. North America. South America. A whole sprawling landmass full of countries that stubbornly insist on existing whether Washington acknowledges them or not.

The United States, by contrast, is a single country—one nation-state occupying a modest portion of the Americas. It has borders. It has limits. It has sovereignty that extends precisely as far as its Constitution, its laws, and the consent of its own voters allow. Or at least it used to, before geography and civics were replaced with chest-thumping nationalism and Sharpie-based foreign policy.

So when Donnie sends a SEAL team into Venezuela, yes, technically he can puff out his chest and say he acted “in America.” Gold star. He’s not wrong in the same way saying “I’m in the solar system” doesn’t mean you own Mars. Venezuela is in America. It is not the United States. And that distinction matters—unless you’re an aspiring strongman who believes maps are more of a suggestion than a boundary.

The problem with calling every military adventure “defending America” is that it quietly erases sovereignty—starting with other countries’ and eventually working its way home. Because once you convince people that “America” means “wherever we decide our interests live,” it’s not a long walk to claiming sovereignty over voters themselves. If borders are imaginary abroad, consent is optional at home.

And that seems to be the real project. Donnie doesn’t just want to police the hemisphere; he wants to rule the narrative. He wants “America” to sound big, holy, inevitable—so that any act, no matter how illegal, reckless, or imperial, can be baptized in patriotism. Invading Venezuela? American leadership. Ignoring Congress? American strength. Disregarding voters? Well, clearly they’re just standing in the way of America too.

But here’s the inconvenient truth no amount of flag-waving can bury: the United States has no sovereignty beyond its laws, its Constitution, and the will of its people. Not over Venezuela. Not over the Americas. And certainly not over its own citizens when they dare to disagree.

Empires confuse themselves with continents. Democracies don’t. And when a leader starts speaking like the landmass belongs to him, history suggests he’s already bored with the idea that the country doesn’t.